


When the beat drops

by Kabaneri



Series: Trollhunters AUs and others, by Kabaneri [1]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 01:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18305009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kabaneri/pseuds/Kabaneri
Summary: A short crack fiction about Bular and his secret hobby. Read if you want.





	When the beat drops

What’s a secret? Something you keep to yourself and don’t tell anyone, once they know, it’s no longer a secret. That’s why no one, absolutely NO ONE could know what he was about to do!

Bular snuck through the sewers and reached his destination, an exposed part of the sewer that had crumbled a few years ago. He climbed up and found himself in an abandoned hangar. It was old, dusty, and looked ready to fall at any time, but if you looked carefully, you’d see that the support beams are in perfect conditions and all holes had been closed, except the one Bular came out of. There were also a few crates and pieces of furniture spread around. Bular walked behind a big sheet of cloth that served as a curtain and entered a room. It was surprisingly clean and smelled fresh, there were no windows or peepholes but that’s how Bular needed it to be. He didn’t want anyone spying on him. He double checked to see if he was alone and started working.

In the room were a few lockers, planks, a pile of towels and a few cardboard boxes. He moved the lockers to the side and lifted some of the floorboards, from there he pulled out a glamor mask and hid his blades, covering them with a few towels for safe measure. Putting everything back, he went to the boxes and pulled a can of men’s deodorant.

‘Ugh…I hate this part the most.’ – he thought.

With a grimace he shook it and prayed himself from head to toe, he soon smelled like ‘Men power 24h protect’ deodorant, he then ate the empty can.

‘No evidence should be left!’

He donned the mask and he immediately changed into a tall and tough looking young man, around his mid-20s, black shaggy hair, red-brown eyes, dark blue jeans, leather boots, black shirt with ‘DEATH’ written in red Blood font, leather spiked jacket with a skull on the back and let’s not forget the tattoo that peaked from the corner of the collar. By how easy he did it, it was obvious he’d transformed like that before.

Bular opened a locker and took a bag with him, inside it were keys and an old wallet, he pulled out a ticket and stuffed it in the wallet. Soon he was out and just in time, seeing the sun had finally set. He smirked to himself and went towards the city center. Not worried about being seen and enjoying how people would look at him, although disguised, and scuttle away in fear.

‘Just like old times, except that I can’t eat them, at least for now.’

He had a goal in mind, something important enough to make him ‘take a break’ from his duty towards his father. You see… Bular really liked rock music and was a HUGE fan. He secretly listened to concerts on the TV, listened to music while training alone and went to every concert he could go to. And this night there was a Postmortem concert in Arcadia. Bular had literally killed to buy a ticket, meaning that he took the money of each of his victims’ wallets/purses. He arrived at the concert hall and frowned at the long line.

“Grr…” – he rumbled in displeasure as he waited.

The sound was deep and a bit loud, making the person in front of him to turn around, the teen gaped in fear as Bular towered over him with his at least 2 meters’ height. The boy cowered, cold sweat on his brow, and stepped to the side.

“P-please gggo ahhhead…” – it was obviously too afraid to talk properly.

Bular shrugged and went forward. The commotion had made others look and they were intimidated by him, so they also made way. He happily made his way towards the entrance, well… it was more of an inner happiness and on the outside he wore a patented angry scowl.

“Look at that guy, he looks dangerous.” ”It’s as if the writing on his shirt was made with real blood!” ”So scary! He looks like he’s eating nails for breakfast.”  “We’d be dead if we cross him! Better stay away.” “He has this dangerous vibe to him! I swear he’d easily kill me if he gets angry!” – he ignored the murmurs and continued inside the concert hall.

You might be wondering how a vicious troll such as Bular got into music, especially human one? Well… It all began some 50 – 50 something years ago, way back in the early 60s.

……………………………………….

Bular had been prowling through the continent’s forests in search of a place to start building the bridge. Yes, the Impure (changelings) had told him they’d find a place and all the pieces but he refused to leave everything in their hands. He’s been doing this for a while now but there was no success. Suddenly he smelled a scent as the wind blew. It wasn’t a pleasant one but with it was mixed the scent of humans.

He planned to snack on them but when he met the hippies and was introduced to ‘Rock music’ he decided against it. They had written it off as a hallucination either way, so he showed a rare act of mercy and didn’t slaughter them.

After that he began to secretly seek rock concerts and music fests. At some point he picked up a glamor mask and began to properly attend them. He kept this secret from everyone that knew him and planned to do that, even if he had to kill everyone.

…………………………………………………..

He found his place on the first floor and waited with everyone for the concert to start.

‘When this is over, I’ll have to scrub myself to was away the smell of fleshbags.’

Even though people were afraid to push him too much, the hall was pretty packed. Soon the band came on stage and the concert started.

“Raaaaaaaah!” – he roared along with the other raging fans.

The music raged on and things started to get a bit rough when too excited people started bumping into each other.

“Hey! Wanna be killed punk?!” – an older man suddenly grabbed the collar of a teen he had bumped into.

A fight started, the heavy rock accompanying it, some fans went towards the exits while most men stayed for the brawl. Bular smirked and cracked his knuckles – he hadn’t had a casual brawl for fun in centuries, people and trolls too afraid to face him.

“Bring it on you f-kers!!” – Bular shouted and decked one in the face, sending him flying.

The poor guy fell with a loud thud, broken nose and a few missing teeth, and fainted.

“Get that punk! Let’s show him not to mess with us!” – another man shouted.

Bular just grinned and prepared for an easy warm-up.

‘I have to make sure none of them die.’ – he thought as he charged at them.

Soon came the police.

“Stop right there!” – a policeman shouted.

Smack! – Bular hit a guy one last time out of spite.

They were all gathered and driven off towards the hospital, to be patched up and questioned. When Bular got into one of the vans, it instantly sunk lower due to his weight. Glamor masks couldn’t do what changeling magic could, you’d only look and sound like another person, everything else, including weight stayed the same. He laughed internally as the cops struggled all the way to the hospital.

When they arrived, each of them was sent to a different room to be treated. And of course, his luck made it so that one of the only humans he knew was treating him. Barbara Lake, aka Trollhunter’s mother, had entered the room not long after he had been told to wait.

“OK. I’m doctor Lake and am here to check you, after that you’ll answer some questions the police ask you. Is that fine?”

“Yes, as long as I’m done and home as soon as possible. I have to travel after all.” – he lied, his deep and gravelly voice surprising her.

“Travel? You are not from town? Please, stretch your arm and unclench your fist.”

“Yes, I came only for the concert.” – he answered and complied.

Bular really wanted to get out of there but forced himself to do as they told him. It was getting close to 11.

“Hmm… good, good. You are uninjured, it’s surprising, considering how big the fight was.”

“Am I free to go now?”

“No, the police still want to get your testimony.”

He was going to retort but a knock on the door made him close his mouth. He smelled the air.

‘GRRRR! It’s him! That **_Impure_**!’

“Yes, who it is?” – Barbara asked.

Strickler opened the door and greeted her.

“Walter! What are you doing here so late?”

“I heard you were finishing your shift soon, so I decided to escort you home, seeing that your car broke down.” – he said in his usual way and looked Bular over.

“I’m sorry, Walt, but there has been a fight and I’ll have to stay a bit more. You can get to your home, though.”

“Nonsense! I can’t leave a woman go home alone at this hour. I’ll wait, it’s not like I have to work tomorrow… But honestly, youngsters these days, being just a bit bigger and they think they are indestructible!”

Bular glared at him, even under the mask, but Strickler dismissed it, thinking Bular was a regular college student.

“Better watch out, young man. You don’t know what’s out there in the world. Make sure you don’t get into fights anymore and eat healthy. That’s a friendly advice from a senior that had gone through the same phase.”

‘Young? Don’t know? Not get in fights? Senior?! Who does this Impure scum think he is?! Acting all tall and mighty, thinking he’s better just because he assumes I’m a human. If only I wasn’t disguised, he’d be dead! Just wait until I see you next time, I’ll…’

Bular glared and grumbled, not daring to say anything. He stood up and Barbara ran after him, showing him the way to the police officers.

After a quick session of questions and answers, he was released. It was around 3 in the morning by the time he returned to the hangar. He looked around, unlocked the door and quickly snuck in. He took his disguise off, hid it again and went to clean himself in order to remove the human and deodorant smell from his body.

An hour later… Bular was squeaky clean and dry, ready to return to the museum after is ‘hunt’. He took his blades and went down the hole, after making sure everything was safe and he hadn’t been followed.

‘The son of Gunmar liking human music… how ridiculous! It’d be horrible if someone knew.’ – he laughed in self-mockery.

Next night, when Strickler came to give Bular his report, Bular made sure to be extra violent and aggressive, which was not very hard when you were angry with the person you were taking it on.


End file.
